


Lingerie

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Garter Belt, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Sexting, Sherlock in Lingerie, Stockings, Top John Watson, Valentine's Day, Women's Underwear, cell phone pictures, mildly public masturbation, picture messaging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner.  Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes.  There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lingerie

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)

“John, are you nearly ready to leave?” Sherlock asked from the doorway of their bedroom.  

“I already told you Sherlock, I’ve been ready for …” John looked up over the top of the paper from his seat at the kitchen table and suddenly found himself at a complete loss for words.  He swallowed hard, his mouth had gone incredibly dry.

Sherlock smirked back at him, leaning casually against the doorframe wearing nothing but a black lace garter belt, thigh high stockings, and nearly completely sheer lace panties.  John took a gasping breath, swallowed again and stared.  The garter belt sat just below Sherlock’s navel, hugging his slim hips in lacy darkness that gave captivating contrast with his milky white skin.  The fabric ended in points at the very tops of Sherlock’s thighs, the suspenders traveling in taught, straight lines to the thick, opaque black bands of nylon of his stockings.  The angles served to draw all of John’s attention to Sherlock’s barely covered cock, outlined and held tight in the small, thin panties.  

“Jesus,” John said under his breath and Sherlock merely quirked an eyebrow and turned, practically sashaying back into their room.  John was treated to a view of Sherlock’s plush arse, framed by suspenders, and again, barely covered by the black lacey panties.  The stockings made Sherlock’s long, slender legs look a mile long.  John cleared his throat and adjusted himself inside his trousers, suddenly unsure of how exactly he was meant to make it through dinner.

Sherlock calmly finished getting dressed - buttoning up the rich purple shirt he knew John loved, and pulling on his black trousers that were likely just a bit too tight.  He slipped into his shoes and suit jacket before heading back out into the kitchen to find John still looking glassy-eyed and distracted.  Sherlock smirked again and went to grab their coats.

 

* * *

 

They were quickly ushered to a cozy table in a dimly lit corner of Angelo’s.  Everything was couples and candlelight and servers rushed off their feet, but both John and Sherlock knew they would be treated well.  

And they were.  Appetizers and nearly half a bottle of wine and John was starting to feel brave.  He slid his chair closer to Sherlock and casually slipped his hand up under his suit jacket, gently running his fingers down the smooth shirt covering Sherlock’s back.  He pressed lightly, just enough to feel the horizontal strap of the garter belt resting across Sherlock’s lower back.  John hummed quietly and ran his fingers back and forth, following the line.  He managed to maneuver a finger under the elastic, bunching Sherlock’s shirt into the strap, and pulled back just enough to make it snap against Sherlock’s skin.  Sherlock shivered and John gave him a smug smile before smoothing his shirt out.

Soon John’s hand wandered to Sherlock’s thigh, feeling the suspender through his trousers and following it down to the hard nubs of the fastener keeping his stockings up.  John toyed with it as they waited for their mains, enjoying the way Sherlock trembled when his fingers dipped to his inner thigh.

John was interrupted from his teasing when the server arrived with their food.  They ate quietly, thoroughly enjoying their food and wine until Sherlock excused himself from the table.  John finished off his plate of pasta and was just wondering what exactly was taking Sherlock so long when his phone pinged with a picture message.  John gasped when he opened it, a deep blush creeping up his cheeks, and he was suddenly glad for the napkin draped across his lap and the dimness of the restaurant.  

John stared at his phone screen as the world around him dropped out of existence.  All there was for him was the photo of Sherlock, clearly in one of the stalls in the loo just down the hall, trousers open and pulled part way down his thighs, just low enough to reveal the tops of his stockings.  His purple shirt was rucked up around his waist, showing the lacy garter belt, and those long, slim fingers of his were gripping his clearly half hard and panty covered cock. John’s phone pinged again as he was staring.

_May I? - SH_

John’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment - the thought of Sherlock having a wank in a public washroom mere metres from where John sat was going straight to his cock.   **Yes.** John managed to tap out in reply.

Sherlock’s reply was much more graphic - another photo.  He had slipped his panties down, freeing his cock which was now fully hard, and had his fist wrapped around it.  “Oh god, I’m going to die right here.” John thought, struggling to remember to both breathe and not openly gape at his phone.

John swallowed hard and quickly looked around.  No one had seemed to notice the desperate state he was in or the hungry way in which he was ogling his phone.  He took a gulp of wine and slipped a hand into his lap, pressing the heel of it against his straining erection.  Two more similar pictures followed - Sherlock’s stiff cock, his fingers wrapped around it, poking lewdly out of a frame of sheer black panties and tight suspenders on his pale thighs.  In the second picture it was clear Sherlock was leaking pre-come, the entire head of his cock glistened with it.

_Please John?_

John took a few deep breaths.

_Please may I come? I’m so close._

“All finished?”  A bright, female voice said terribly close to where John was sitting.  He nearly jumped out of his skin and quickly pressed the screen of his phone against his chest, hiding what was displayed there.

“P-pardon?” John managed to stutter.

“Your plates. All finished, then?”

“Oh, oh! Yes, all done. Thank you.  We’ll umm, have the bill when you have a moment,”  John said, clearing his throat as he watched the girl clear their empty dinner plates.  His phone made increasingly insistent noises at him.

As soon as the servers back was turned, John frantically checked his messages to find a barrage of texts and two more photos from Sherlock - one more of his wet cock, and one that included Sherlock’s face looking entirely desperate.  

_Please John._

_Please I want to come so badly._

_Answer me, John._

_Please I’ll do whatever you ask if you just let me come._

_Please John please._

Sherlock was begging, actually begging.  John was breathing heavily and his mind was spinning.  Sherlock knew what it did to John when he asked permission, when he looked so utterly obscene, and god, what could be more obscene than wanking in a public toilet while wearing womens lingerie and sending the proof?

 **Don’t. You. Dare.**  John sent, hoping the authority he would usually have in his voice carried through via text message.  John almost thought he could hear the whine that Sherlock would be biting back.

Cruel, John. was Sherlock’s reply.

Just then the server returned.  “Angelo says there’s no charge for you two.”

“Oh, thank you very much.”  John said, trying for all he was worth to will away the rather resolute erection he had been hiding for quite some time now.  The server smiled and went back to her other tables.   **Get your pretty arse out here Sherlock, we’re going home.** John tapped out on his phone, a few seconds later adding a **Now**. for good measure.  He fished in his wallet to leave a tip for the server.

Sherlock came back from the loos looking wrecked and having a small bit of trouble walking.  He had his suit jacket folded over one arm, discreetly covering his groin.  John smiled at him and Sherlock just scowled a little in return.  “Shall we go? I assume the bill has been taken care of?”  Sherlock asked, choosing to remain standing.

“As much as Angelo will ever allow the bill to be taken care of, yes.”  John responded, adjusting himself once more, although things on his end were now much less … pressing.  He gathered up his coat and tilted his head towards the doors in a ‘let’s be off’ gesture that Sherlock was happy to comply with.

 

* * *

 

    They all but tumbled into the flat they were so eager to get inside.  John’s hands had barely left Sherlock’s lower back or thighs the entire cab ride home, toying with the undergarments through Sherlock’s tight clothing.  

    “You’re so cruel, John.” Sherlock whined as John stripped him of his coat and suit jacket, tugging him along toward the bedroom.

    “What does that make you then, you bloody great tease?”  John said, nipping at Sherlock’s bottom lip, frantically unfastening his shirt buttons.  “I’m keeping those photos.” he whispered huskily, using Sherlock’s open shirt to finally pull him past the threshold, then push him up against the edge of the bed.

    John quickly rid himself of his jumper and his own shirt as Sherlock leaned back languidly on his elbows on the bed, one shoulder of his purple shirt slipping off, and the garter belt sitting snugly around his waist.  John stepped in between Sherlock’s long legs, bent down to kiss him firmly on the mouth while he deftly undid his trousers.  Sherlock lifted his hips off the bed and John tugged his trousers all the way off, letting them rest in a heap on the floor.

    John’s eyes raked all the way up Sherlock’s body - those smooth, silky stocking, the taut lines of suspenders, his cock still half hard and already straining in those see-through panties, the lacy pattern of the garter belt and all of Sherlock’s pale skin with only his arms still covered by his open shirt.  “Fuck you’re gorgeous” John said, reverently falling to his knees between Sherlock’s spread legs.  He pulled one stocking-clad foot into his lap, running his fingers over the long arch of it, over his heel and up his calf.  John let out a groan. “Oh god, you shaved didn’t you?” He nuzzled his cheek against Sherlock’s knee, the texture of the stockings so smooth and luxuriant against his face and hands.  “How do you read my mind like this?”  John muttered, mostly to himself, as he turned his face to mouth at the tender, delicately clothed skin behind Sherlock’s knee.

    It was Sherlock’s turn to groan, although it came out as more of a needy whine than he had intended.  The feeling of the stockings was so much more intimate without a layer of hair in the way, and John’s hot mouth felt incredible through the sheer fabric.  “Ahh, John please.” Sherlock breathed, his voice low and dripping with need.

    John looked up into Sherlock’s dark eyes and smiled as he continued his slow exploration.  He couldn’t help but notice that Sherlock’s cock, fully hard now, had partly slipped up out of the waistband of the tiny panties and was pressed tight against his stomach and the garter belt.  John hummed pleasantly and placed wet kisses from Sherlock’s ankle up to the top of his stockings, his lips only just brushing against the exposed skin of Sherlock’s inner thigh.  Sherlock trembled slightly.

    John trailed his fingers lightly back down to Sherlock’s foot, picking it up and putting it aside to lift the other foot into his lap.  Again he stroked and nuzzled and kissed his way up and down Sherlock’s leg, leaving lingering damp spots in the fabric of the stockings with his mouth.  Sherlock had his head thrown back, looking utterly lewd perched on the edge of the bed in his lingerie, purple shirt falling off his shoulders.

Sherlock flexed his toes against John’s thigh, lifted his head to watch as John ran his hands and mouth lovingly over his stockings.  Slowly Sherlock slid his foot along John’s leg the small distance it had to travel until his toes met something hot and hard and denim covered that made John groan.  Sherlock smiled and pressed his foot harder into John’s erection, using his long toes to rub and knead him through his jeans.  

John rested his head against Sherlock’s knee and reached out to Sherlock’s leg that was not currently occupied.  He slid his fingers up underneath the suspender at the top of Sherlock’s thigh, his thumb rubbing circles dangerously close to what was barely contained in lacy panties.  John’s hot puffs of breath ghosted across Sherlock’s other leg.  “John.”  Sherlock drawled out, hoping the combined effects of his foot and voice would speed things along.

John gasped as Sherlock’s long toes managed to do unspeakable things to him, even through his jeans.  He relented just a little and moved Sherlock’s foot off his lap, stood up and reached down to unzip his trousers, pushing them off his hips along with his pants.  Sherlock watched him closely the whole time, propped up on his elbows, looking long and lean and ridiculously attractive in all that lingerie.

John stepped forward between Sherlock’s spread legs, splaying his fingers on Sherlock’s chest, starting to trail them slowly downward.  He leaned forward until his mouth was next to Sherlock’s ear and whispered huskily, “you know what your problem is Sherlock Holmes?”  Sherlock only made an undignified squeak in the back of his throat in response.  ‘You’re just. So. Damn. Impatient.” John enunciated quietly, punctuating each word with a light nip on Sherlock’s neck.  “You cannot dress like this and expect me not to take my own sweet time unwrapping you.”

A hot blush crept into Sherlock’s cheeks and chest and John’s fingers were now brushing down across the lacy fabric of the garter belt.  So close, Sherlock thought desperately, John was so close to finally touching him.  He pushed his hips up wantonly, sought out John’s mouth for a deep kiss.  John only indulged him with the kiss, his fingers slipped sideways to follow the straps of the garter belt down his thighs again, purposefully avoiding Sherlock’s cock.  Sherlock whined into John’s mouth.

John smiled and moved both his hands to Sherlock’s hips, his thumbs sinking into the hollows there as he stroked Sherlocks warm skin.  John kissed all along Sherlock’s jaw occasionally nipping at him, or nudging him with his tongue.  He worked his way down the cords of Sherlock’s neck, stopping to suck a possessive bruise on the top of his shoulder.  John reach up to slip Sherlock’s purple shirt, now just barely hanging off his shoulders, all the way off, letting his hands trail slowly back up Sherlock’s wiry arms.  Light touches, gentle and slow.  John wanted to enjoy every inch of Sherlock’s beautiful body that he had wrapped up so prettily for him.

John ran his tongue along Sherlock’s collarbones, his fingers caressing Sherlock’s chest, brushing lightly over his hard nipples, making Sherlock squirm.  He pressed his fingers into the indents between each of Sherlock’s ribs, mouthing down his chest, stopping to lick each of his nipples, biting down on them gently.  Sherlock moaned and let out a shaky breath.  John smiled, his kisses continuing downward over Sherlock’s stomach to the edge of the garter belt.

John pushed Sherlock lightly, making him lean further back on the bed as John bent over him, standing between his splayed legs.  John ran his hands along the tight fabric of the garter belt, slipped a finger under the edge running horizontal over Sherlock’s lean belly and ran it back and forth.  Sherlock made a frustrated noise, thrusting his hips up off the bed.  “John, please?” he whined, his hard cock visibly wet at the tip where it lay trapped against the garter belt.

“Please, what?” John teased, running his thumbs down the lacy fabric and warm skin just on either side of Sherlock’s cock.  Sherlock groaned and let his upper body collapse onto the bed, throwing one arm rather dramatically over his eyes.  John laughed quietly at him, his thumbs continuing their teasing.

 “Touch me John, please!”  Sherlock whined again, giving a petulant little wiggle on the bed.  John bent down further, bringing his mouth close the head of Sherlock’s prick and ghosted a hot breath over it.  Sherlock shuddered and gave a long, needy moan.  John moved his fingers down to the small, black panties no longer managing to give Sherlock even a semblance of coverage.  He pushed the sheer and lacy fabric down around Sherlock’s cock, framing it further, and pushing it harder against Sherlock’s stomach.  

John stuck his pink tongue out and ran it up the underside of the half of Sherlock’s cock that was sticking up and out of the tiny panties, making Sherlock keen.  John repeated the action before sucking lightly on the head while hooking his fingers into the waistband of the panties.  John straightened up and pulled them off Sherlock’s long, stocking covered legs, adding them to the pile of discarded clothes already on the floor.

“Come on love, get all the way on the bed for me.”  John said, fondling Sherlock’s thigh.  Sherlock quickly rearranged himself, laying down with his head on the pillows as John climbed up on the bed, running his hands up Sherlock’s legs, guiding him to bend his knees up and spread his legs.  John settled in between Sherlock’s legs, leaning in to again lick a stripe up the underside of Sherlock’s cock before tongueing and gently sucking on each of Sherlock’s balls.  John moved lower, using his thumbs to spread Sherlock’s arse cheeks to give himself better access.

Sherlock gasped and sighed and moaned and squirmed beautifully as John wriggled his tongue against Sherlock’s arsehole.  He licked and prodded, all  the while running his fingers over the tops of Sherlock’s stockings on the backs of his thighs, feeling the contrast between silky nylon, warm skin, and the tight, somewhat harsh suspenders.  John hummed happily, leisurely pushing his tongue inside Sherlock’s resisting ring of muscles, taking his time still, deeply enjoying just watching Sherlock slowly come apart.

Sherlock looked so gorgeous framed in black lace and tight straps, with his smooth legs brushing against John’s shoulders, and his cock hard and leaking against his stomach.  John marvelled at how lucky he was, how very much in love he was with this stunning, brilliant, and sometimes downright infuriating man who for some reason loved him back just as much.  John gave one last wriggle of his tongue before sitting up and reaching over to the bedside table.

John took a moment to press himself against Sherlock, letting him feel how hard he was and giving him a lingering kiss on the mouth.  Sherlock arched up into him, making them both groan.  John bit gently on Sherlock’s plush lower lip and knelt back between his legs.  He popped the cap on the lube and slicked up his fingers, giving them a moment to warm up before starting to circle a finger around Sherlock’s tight hole.

Sherlock whined and tried to push himself against John’s fingers, but John held his hip down firmly, continuing his slow tease.  He pressed the tip of his finger in, letting it linger there briefly before pushing in deeper, making Sherlock hiss in a breath.  He rubbed Sherlock’s hip with his thumb, a soothing gesture while he started to slide his finger in and out, keeping a sedate pace and focusing on the slick glide and light squeeze around his digit.

He watched as Sherlock’s face and chest started to redden, his breathing quickened, and he bit down hard on his lower lip, squirming just a little against John’s steady hands.  He slipped another finger inside Sherlock’s puckered hole, tilting both up to graze over Sherlock’s sensitive prostate.  Sherlock shouted and arched, his eyes wide open and black with lust, staring up at John helplessly.  John worked faster, scissoring and sliding his fingers in and out, gradually relaxing Sherlock’s taught muscles enough to add a third finger, and in just a little while longer he was ready.

“On your knees, love.”  John requested, and Sherlock was quick to obey, positioning himself on his knees and elbows, hugging a pillow to his chest, his arse in the air.  John had to take the time to admire him -- the garter belt still framed him perfectly, but cut two black lines through the plushness of Sherlock’s arse, denting the skin.  John couldn’t help but grab a handful of that arse, kneading and spreading him apart as Sherlock pushed back into him, his face buried in the pillow so he was a picture of alternating black and white, with just hints of suggestive pink.

John found the bottle of lube again and slicked himself up, letting out a huff of breath at the sensation.  He wasted no time sinking himself fully into Sherlock’s now slippery arsehole, making them both groan with satisfaction.  John stilled himself, kneading Sherlock’s arse, letting them both get used to the heat and stretch.  He started slowly at first, gliding in and out of Sherlock at a measured pace, adjusting his angle until Sherlock let out a strangled cry muffled only slightly by the pillow.  John slid his hands up to garter belt and gripped the fabric, using it to pull Sherlock back into him as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

The fabric dug into Sherlock’s belly, but he didn’t care, he was too busy enjoying the small bite of pain and the feeling of being entirely full of John.  He moaned into the pillow, sweat starting to make his curls stick to his forehead and the back of his neck.  John rocked into him hard and fast, the sound of skin on skin and hard breaths filling the room.  

“John.  Ahh.  Please!” Sherlock panted, turning his head to look at John.  John got the message and slipped one hand around Sherlock’s waist, wrapping it around Sherlock’s hard cock that was slick with precome.  Sherlock groaned and buried his face back in the pillow, the sensations flooding his body making him start to lose control of any higher functions.

John kept the garter belt gripped tight in one hand while he fisted Sherlock’s cock with the other, all the while keeping up an unrelenting pace with his thrusts.  “God you feel so good.”  John moaned, “So fucking good.  I want you to come for me.”  Sherlock whined in response, his thighs trembling as he tried to piston himself between John’s hand and cock.  John stroked him faster, gave him just what he needed, and in a moment Sherlock was screaming out John’s name as he came all over his hand and the sheets.  He gasped as his muscles contracted and relaxed, over and over again as the spasm of his orgasm passed through him, making him feel as though he was wrung out straight down to his bones.

Sherlock’s arsehole constricted around John, his own groan drowned out by Sherlock’s shout.  A few more hard thrusts and John was there, his cock pulsing in Sherlock’s arse as he came inside him, letting Sherlock’s fluttering muscles milk him dry.

He collapsed over Sherlock’s back, peppering it and his shoulders with kisses as he caught his breath and his softening cock slipped out of him.  John unclasped the garter belt and rolled Sherlock over onto his back, his body relaxed and pliant in his post-orgasmic haze.  John unclipped the straps and tossed the garter belt onto the floor before reverently rolling each stocking off Sherlock’s bare legs.  He kissed and nuzzled against Sherlock’s legs, enjoying the novelty of them being so smooth and hairless.

Sherlock only watched with mild curiosity, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.  He was often fascinated by John’s fascination with him, especially such simple things like a bit of lingerie or shaved legs.  It was endearing and full of such love that it made Sherlock’s heart thump hard against his chest.  He reached up to pull John down next to him, rolling over onto his side to face him, and gave him a lingering kiss, slow and sleepy.  He smiled against John’s mouth and felt John smile back, their foreheads pressed together.

“Thank you.” John whispered, “this was the perfect present.” and wrapped his arms around Sherlock in a sweaty and slightly sticky embrace.  “I can’t believe you even remembered Valentines Day.”  Sherlock made a noncommittal noise, his mouth pressed to the top of John’s head.  John pulled away slightly to look Sherlock in the eye.  “You had Mrs. Hudson remind you, didn’t you?”  John questioned and Sherlock looked briefly guilty until John just laughed at him.  “It’s alright Sherlock, I don’t mind.  I’m far too pleased to mind.”  John kissed him then, full and hard on the mouth.  “I love you Sherlock Holmes, whether you remember Valentines Day on your own or not, just as long as you wear that for me again sometime soon.”

“I love you too, John”  Sherlock said, “And that can certainly be arranged.”    


End file.
